


NYE Meets NYC

by aconfederacyofscript



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-16
Updated: 2015-03-16
Packaged: 2018-03-18 06:01:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3558776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aconfederacyofscript/pseuds/aconfederacyofscript





	NYE Meets NYC

Skye had been thinking about this moment ever since Trip sent out the invitations to his “NYE meets NYC” party. She had been excited. Very excited. Had been.

She had been thinking about Jemma since she told her that she would go back to the UK and spend New Year’s Eve with her parents, flying back to the states on January 3rd.

It made Skye sad, because she had planned to do something stupid and cliché on Trip’s party, because stupid things always happened at his parties. Like kiss when the ball drops, and drink too much champagne.

It’s less than five minutes before the ball drops and Skye is standing among everyone she got so close with over the last year, but a certain someone is definitely missing.

Trip, whose laugh was so contagious that she just has to laugh when Mack’s tiny plastic helicopter hits Fitz in the face. Lance, who is already pretty drunk and telling stories again about his devious ex-wife, Bobbi, who was there to hear it all, mixing drinks with Melinda May. And then there was Coulson, who was trying to get the flat-screen to work and who was also too stubborn to ask her for help.

It was their first New Year together as a couple and Jemma wasn’t there.

"Here, love. Drink this and you might feel better. You can’t start twenty fifteen with a frown on your face. Before you know it it’s permanent."

Lance walks over and hands her a drink that looks a lot like vodka and smells like coconut. All she knows for certain is that it tastes terrible.

"Yeah, thanks… Maybe you shouldn’t start the year drunk, Hunter. Before you know it it’s permanent." She can’t help but grin when Lance looks at her with a look of feigned hurt on his face.

"I’m just gonna assume you’re being mean to be because your girlfriend isn’t here. You’re supposed to get drunk and get laid on New Year’s Eve, love. I’m not breakin’ tradition." Lance winks.

"One minute!" Trip calls out before Skye can even think of who Lance wants to sleep with or before she can come up with a decent come-back.

"Hey AC are you sure you don’t need help?" Skye asks and walks over. He looks up at her with an apologetic smile, but grumbles when she fixes it in ten seconds, while he has been muddering for the last fifteen minutes.

"Thir’ey seconds!" Lance slurs and puts down his glass, before taking two flutes of champagne from May and handing one to Skye.

Skye doesn’t feel cheerful or excited. She doesn’t want to feel like this and be the party pooper, she wanted to have fun. Jemma probably was having fun herself in Sheffield. But she can’t. The pit in her stomach can’t be ignored; she really misses her girlfriend.

"Ten!"

Skye turns on the tv then and watches the crowd below The Ball. There are so many lights. There is music. There are all those people counting down.

She takes a sip of champagne and then another when it blends horribly with the lingering taste of that coconut vodka.

"… Five!"

She might as well enjoy it.

"… Four!"

Or pretend like she does.

"… Three!"

Another sip. She definitely doesn’t.

"Skye!"

The door slams open and she swirls around.

"I’m not too late, am I?"

"… Two!"

Skye doesn’t answer, but runs over to Jemma who drops her bags mid motion, putting her glass down somewhere.

"You’re here?" Skye breathes when Jemma literally jumps into her arms and wraps her legs around her waist.

"Happy New Year, honey," Jemma whispers and leans down to capture Skye’s lips in a searing kiss when a joint ‘one’ thunders through the room.

People are clapping, blowing whistles and outside fireworks go off. They are showered with confetti and can’t stop smiling.

"You two can stop kissing now. It’s gross," Trip laughs and Jemma smiles against Skye’s lips before planting a final firm kiss there.

"Can I please enjoy my girlfriend, Trip? I haven’t seen her in days."

He just waves his hand and Skye kisses Jemma’s cheek.

"I’m so glad you’re here."

"Yeah, she wouldn’t shut up and stop pouting, really. It is pathetic how whipped you are Skye."

Jemma laughs, but is distracted when Bobbi sticks her head around the door.

"Are you slackers coming? I realise we all want to get drunk, but I bought sparklers and you’re going to light them with me."

"Always so bossy," Lance mutters, but shrugs on his coat.

"Come on. It’s tradition." Jemma tugs on Skye’s hand and picks up two flutes with her other, since something has to keep them warm.

"I love you," Skye whispers into Jemma’s ear when she wraps her arms around her middle from behind, her breath forming white clouds in the chilly air, "thanks for coming."

Jemma turns her head to kiss Skye, who tightens her hold on her slightly. “I love you, too.”

Bobbi writes words in the air with the sparklers like love, shield, and happy, and eventually - after a bit more champagne - she writes words like cock and dick with Lance and Mack, who are in hysterics.

Skye wasn’t one for traditions, but she was sure that she wouldn’t break any of the traditions. Not this year, not any year.


End file.
